The Sunset

I close my eyes as the breeze washed over me, a welcome addition to the orange rays of the setting sun. I will it to freeze this moment, to make sure I never forget all that was happening, to make sure that I'm not dreaming.

I open my eyes and he is still in front of me, craning his neck to get a better view of the sunset.

I was in fact not dreaming.

“What are you smiling about?” he asks as he takes his phone out to take a picture of the sky.

“Nothing really. I just want to remember this moment.” I grin as he focuses the camera on me instead of the sunset.

Tharun is the type of guy who everyone falls in love with.

He knows exactly what to say, cracks the perfect jokes in the most awkward of moments, and makes up a lot of my most heartwarming memories of feeling seen ever since we were put in the same class on the first day of college.

I can feel my face heating up as he rushes to show me the picture. It is a little blurry, but anyone who knew me truly could look at my face bathed in that sunset and see the real reason for the brightness of my smile and the obvious twinkle in my eyes.

And once again I think to myself: I am so glad no one I know is here.

Every moment I spend with Tharun feels borderline scandalous, like I would be caught red handed of something if someone noticed.

But no one really noticed anything. Because there really is nothing.

Really. I promise.

Tharun is in fact the type of guy who everyone falls in love with.

And I wished I was an exception to that.

*******

He had always been off-limits, ever since I first met him.

A guy like him never stayed single for long, as people soon discovered that behind the flirtatious jokes and the genuine compliments was a man who had more than enough love to give.

He soon started a relationship with Priya, a girl with an almost ethereal kind of beauty that made you want to keep looking at her for a second longer than was appropriate.

They were perfect for each other, his loud laughter and jovial nature perfectly complementing her calm and grounding presence.

As Tharun and I became closer, I was often a audience to his love for her, and a soundboard for his ideas on surprising her and getting her gifts on their special days.

I was always happy for him, and happy for them too.

They were perfect for each other.

But the flirting never stopped, not with me nor with every other girl in his vicinity.

And it was never the creepy, uncomfortable kind or the kind that made you want to tell Priya to be careful.

It was the kind of statement that made you wonder, that made your insecurities seem smaller even just for a moment, that made you feel a little less invisible in the grand scheme of things.

And even if my life was a love letter to this man, I would not mind.

I never wanted to cross the line I had drawn for myself. He soon began making me smile too much, and I found myself searching for him and waiting for him, replaying his words in my head more often than I should have. I found myself wishing for something so selfish, so cruel and so unkind, a chance at more happiness for myself, even if it just meant another moment with him alone.

Which is why when he asked if we could talk, I was reasonably concerned.

*******

“What’s going on?” I ask as Tharun paces across the room.

My chest tightens as I watch him run his fingers through his hair, his laugh lines making up a frown.

He wouldn’t have found out. No one knew. I myself did not have a grip on what exactly I was feeling. How could he have figured it out?

“You can’t tell anyone about this. Do you promise?” he asks, holding out his hand.

“I promise,” I say, squeezing his hand.

“Priya broke up with me.”

My stomach dropped. I could suddenly feel every sensation in my body and yet nothing at all. My heart thudded in my chest.

“What?” I pushed out, unable to understand.

He nodded, his jaw ticking with anger or pain, or both. I couldn’t tell.

“But why?”

He inhaled deeply.

“She was exhausted with having to wonder if I would choose her at the end of the day.”

I couldn’t believe it. She had always seemed so self-assured, and I was convinced she did not have a jealous bone in her body.

“But you did choose her. You chose her over and over again. And you still choose her, right?”

“Yes, of course, obviously,” he mutters, his voice clearly straining from holding back his hurt.

“Wait, I don’t understand. There has to be some reason that this is coming up out of nowhere. What’s the whole story here?” I ask, trying to calm myself and be a friend.

He takes a seat in the empty classroom and I sit beside him.

I hold back my tears as he tells me how she felt like he would never truly be his, especially when she saw how close he was to every other girl in our class. I feel for her pain at feeling like an option, a feeling I have known too well.

As he starts sobbing, I am lost. I move to comfort him, hesitating to hug him, but he beats me to it. As his tears wet my shoulder, I rub his back, trying not to be distracted by his scent or the fact that his arms are actually around me.

He pulls away from the hug, and as our cheeks brush against each other, I find myself staring into his eyes. Those brown pools which were always crinkled with a joke, now shine with sorrow.

My hands can’t help but start to wipe away his tears, while his eyes never leave mine.

As I blink away my own tears at his pain, I have a faraway ache that begs to be noticed, that begs me to move away, to stop comforting him, that tries to convince me that I am the last person that needs to be here.

That ache soon jumps to my throat, as he leans in and kisses me.

I did not know how this was supposed to feel. I wish it felt worse.

I wish I didn’t want it to stop, I wish I hated it.

But as he held my face against his and touched me ever so gently, I didn’t want to let go of him.

And as I felt myself push him away from me and stand up, I knew that my irrationality would have a price to pay when he came back to his senses.

His gaze was on me, unfocused, his bloodshot eyes making it seem like he had just woken up.

“This - this isn’t right. You are obviously in a terrible place right now, and I won’t be the person who takes advantage of that. This is going to be something you regret, and I don’t want that to happen. I - I’m sorry,” I blurt out as I dash out of the classroom.

He didn’t have to know that I found an empty corridor and a wall against which I fell to the ground and sobbed for him, for the undeniable fact that I would never have him.

He didn’t have to know how much it hurt to leave, when all I wanted to do was hold him closer and never let go.

If he thought the worst of me, so be it. He wouldn’t be too far off in his estimation anyways.

*******

I knew it would be awkward, difficult and maybe a little emotional to see him again, but I didn’t anticipate the wave of rushing love at just seeing him, the wave that always washed over me without needing an explanation or a reason for it, that part of my heart that was just aching to be in his presence.

As the class ended and everyone began leaving, I quickly packed my things and made for the door, only for someone to grab my wrist and yank me back.

I knew it would be him.

As everyone left, I couldn’t look at him, even as his gaze willed me to.

I finally looked up and found a broken man staring back.

“Look, I’m sorry about what happened the other day. You were upset and sad, and maybe I shouldn’t have run away, but I didn’t want you to regret it. I didn’t want you to hate me,” I say, before he has the chance to speak.

“Look. Look at me. Anisha,” he asks, as my gaze remains firmly fixed to the ground.

He grabs my hands, and the jolt accompanied by the touch is enough for me to look up.

“I should be the one apologising. You were comforting me, and I put you in a difficult position. I am sorry,” he says, his apology as sincere and genuine as everything else he says.

I can feel my resolve melting, my sense of reality tilting again.

“And I could never hate you,” he says gently, his thumb rubbing circles on my hand as a slight smile appears on his face.

I can’t help but smile back, feeling like everything is okay again, like the kiss never happened.

I almost don’t want him to keep taking, lest he ruins this moment.

“And I don’t regret it, what happened,” he says, effectively making me lose my breath yet again.

“What?” I whisper, not trusting myself to speak sensibly.

“I don’t regret kissing you. I needed that, at that moment, to feel cared for,” he says, an expression of gratitude on his face that I wasn’t supposed to be the recipient of.

“Do you want to know what surprised me though?” he asks, and my stomach sinks again, the uncertainty of it all creeping up on me.

I shake my head.

“What surprised it that for a second there, you were there with me too. You - it felt like you needed it too, that you felt something there too,” he says, his tone uncertain yet his eyes piercing into mine, finding every lie and every feeling I had buried deep in me.

I open my mouth to deny it, but nothing comes out.

I try to pry my hands from his, but his grip becomes tighter. I look up at him.

“Say it Anisha. Say that I mean nothing to you, that the kiss meant nothing to you. Tell me that you didn’t feel something, tell me that you don’t feel anything right now,” he says, his gaze almost challenging me to lie.

I once again try to leave, but he pulls me back, with an expression on his face that makes it seem like he reached a conclusion of some sorts.

“You can’t say it, can you?” he asks, the question hanging in the air.

I shake my head, now feeling tears fill my eyes, knowing that I can’t run away anymore. Not when he is looking at me, knowing it all, and yet wanting me to say it.

“I - of course I can’t say it didn’t mean anything! It meant so much to me, it meant everything to me. Of course I felt it, I have always felt it, and I feel it right now and it almost makes me feel sick, how much I feel for you.”

He looks stunned as I finally break my silence.

He lets go of my hand to touch my cheek, and I let him. And this time, when he kisses me, I don’t move away. I let myself wrap my arms around him, I let myself close the distance between us, I let myself step on the line I had been so focused on never crossing, I let myself go, finally.

The kiss deepens, and I find myself not wanting it to ever stop. Every feeling is so heightened as every inch of distance between us is closed.

As we pull away, our foreheads touch each other as I look at him.

“I - I have always loved you Tharun. Wherever you are, wherever you go, and whoever you’re with, I will always love you. That won’t ever change. It is a part of me now.”

His eyes crinkle as he kisses me again.

“I love you too.”

*******

This is obviously based on a real person, which is why it is less of a story and more of me getting something off my mind that has been on my mind for far too long. And as you can probably tell, no amount of words would be enough to describe this man. And as I state in the prose, I wouldn’t mind if my life were a love letter to this man. Some part of this is obviously fictional, and was written for the purpose of briefly living out a fantasy that is never supposed to be. Take it as you will. And I apologise for my writing, it is clearly a bit rusty, but I am trying to get back to my old groove of things.

*******